


Caught In A Spider’s Web

by InkgooSupernova



Series: The Winter System [51]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babysitting, Bed-Wetting, Bucky Barnes Had DID - Dissociative Identity Disorder, Diapers, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Embarrassment, Humiliation, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Misunderstandings, Other, POV Multiple, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Trans Peter Parker, Unreliable Narrator, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkgooSupernova/pseuds/InkgooSupernova
Summary: But like the man said, she was busy with the business, and a last minute emergency in a country halfway across the world left few people open for the role of Winter Babysitter.That left the nineteen year old Peter Parker.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: The Winter System [51]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693231
Comments: 102
Kudos: 185





	1. The Itsy Bitsy Spider

**Author's Note:**

> This story features embarrassment, humiliation, urinary incontinence, and diapers

“I don’t like it.” The Soldier grumbled.

“I know big guy, you’ve only said that about fifty-six times now.” The Falcon huffed as he slipped on his boots. “But Pepper’s busy with Stark’s business and there’s no one else in the tower who can keep an eye on you on such short notice.”

The Soldier liked Virginia “Pepper” Potts. She was kind and didn’t treat him like a dangerous weapon or a child. She was caring yet carried an air of stability and assurance. He liked being around her. She was the CEO of Stark’s whole business, so of course she had to know how to keep a level head, especially when dealing with someone who was so...

...Eccentric was the nice word.

But like the man said, she was busy with the business, and a last minute emergency in a country halfway across the world left few people open for the role of Winter Babysitter.

That left the nineteen year old Peter Parker.

“He’s younger than all of us.” The Soldier huffed.

“One, Jamesy and Winnie?” The Falcon held up a finger to count. “Two, everyone here is younger than you, even Steve. I think the only one who isn’t is Thor, and I’m pretty sure he’s immortal. You don’t complain about Pepper being younger than you.”

“Potts is forty-seven, not a teenager.” The Soldier argued. “She’s a CEO.”

“Rather I ring up Shuri? She’s not even an adult.” The Falcon huffed.

“That’s worse.” The Soldier huffed as well.

“I’m sure you and Peter will have fun anyways.” The Captain said, strapping his cowl to his head. “Just make sure you show him where the knives are for cooking and where the stuff for the little ones are, okay?”

“He is _not_ changing us.” He could feel his face heating up under his muzzle at the thought.

“Do you want a repeat of the last level three mission?” The Falcon cocked an eyebrow at him.

“That was different. They can change themselves.” The Soldier growled.

“Unless it’s Winnie. I don’t want to come home to him crying from a diaper rash.” The Captain added. “Just try to play nice, okay? Be glad we have anyone to keep an eye on you.”

The Soldier sighed, hugging the two men as a knock sounded at the door.

“That’s our cue, play nice, Soldier.” The Falcon pat his shoulder, and with a quick exchange of kisses, the Soldier slinked into a corner as the two men greeted the kid. He watched as the two men stepped out, leaving the walking twig standing in their wake.

So it begins.


	2. Treading A Thin Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mr. Winter? Sir? Mr. Wilson said you’re in here?” He carefully stepped into the room. He could feel the telltale prickle of his skin, but tried his best to ignore it. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t pounce on him like a tiger, right?
> 
> “It’s Soldier.” He couldn’t help the way he nearly jumped out of his skin, coughing to hide the undignified yelp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has vague references to fecal incontinence. Reader discretion is advised.

“Mr. Winter Soldier, sir?” Peter called into the room.

He was given the opportunity to spend the next four days with James Buchanan Barnes while the rest of the Avengers saved the world. Truthfully, he was a little disappointed when Stark told him he wasn’t coming along, but he had to admit spending time with a war hero was also pretty cool.

That was, until he stepped into the living room of Captain America and Falcon’s apartment, and immediately felt eyes on him. He didn’t even feel that way with Jarvis.

“Mr. Winter? Sir? Mr. Wilson said you’re in here?” He carefully stepped into the room. He could feel the telltale prickle of his skin, but tried his best to ignore it. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t pounce on him like a tiger, right?

“It’s Soldier.” He couldn’t help the way he nearly jumped out of his skin, coughing to hide the undignified yelp.

“Hi! Hi hi hey, hey. I’m here, you’re here,” He fidgeted, wrapping his arms around his midriff. “I’m Peter, you’re- you-you already know that.”

“You stumble a lot.” The Soldier stalked out of his shadowy corner like the Grim Reaper, or an attack dog stepping into the light. He hoped his nervous gulp wasn’t obvious.

“I don’t stumble a lot.” He huffed, trying to keep his wits of himself. He couldn’t help but feel nervous as the cyborg’s eyes trained on his chest, then his neck, then somewhere through him.

Right, what did Mr. Captain say about him? He was sometimes a child, and that he didn’t like looking people in the eye. And that Mr. Soldier wasn’t allowed to use knives without supervision.

Could his web fluid hold that arm down?

“You’re staring.” The Soldier snarled, slightly muffled by the muzzle on his face. Was he prone to biting? Maybe he should’ve asked Mr. Captain more questions...

“Sorry, just, it’s cool. The arm, I mean. _Your_ arm.” Peter gestured to the man’s left side, realizing a bit too late that he made a massive mistake. What if he offended him? Was it rude to call an amputee’s prosthesis cool? Especially if it was from bad guys?

“Spacibo.” The Soldier growled. Right, he spoke Russian sometimes, Mr. Falcon said that. Did all of them speak Russian? Could he speak any other languages? Most likely. “But stop staring.”

“Right, sorry.” He shifted his eyes to somewhere else in the room, noting a painting of paint splatters in a random pattern. “Ah, Jackson Pollock, right? I know Mr. Captain is an artist, he likes art, right?”

The Soldier’s head slowly turned towards the painting, and Peter was worried it would spin all the away around a la the Exorcist. “Da, he likes art. Don’t touch it.”

“I wont, it’s probably really expensive. Wouldn’t want to break it, yeah?” Peter felt himself loosening up, having a conversation with the infamous Winter Soldier.

The Soldier shook his head. “Can’t have other art in here, the stains are too obvious. Don’t touch it.”

It took Peter a good ten seconds to understand.

“Wha- oh. _OH!_ Oh okay okay I uh, good to, good to know.” Great, there was a piece of art that probably had the Winter Soldier’s bodily fluids on it. Great. Fantastic. “Uh, anything else in here I shouldn’t touch?”

The Soldier glanced around the room, eyes slowly trailing across each piece of furniture. “...You can touch that chair and the TV.” He pointed to a small chair adjacent to the couch, then the widescreen television against the wall. “Don’t sit on the floor.”

“Great. Thanks.” He was certain the disgust was obvious in his voice, sue him.

“There’s a guest room you can sleep in, it’s clean.” The Soldier mumbled, pointing to a hall.

“Guess I shouldn’t bring a blacklight in here, huh?” Peter laughed, trying his best to lighten the mood.

“If you do, I’m not responsible for your therapy bills.” He heard the man growl. Cool. Was that supposed to be a joke? Was he joking? Did he know how to joke?

“Uh, alright. Cool.” Peter cleared his throat. “So, uh, what do you like to do for fun? Other than, uh, editing Pollock paintings?”

If he thought his joke was funny, he didn’t show it.

“That’s not your concern.” The Soldier huffed.

“Right, uh,” Peter felt like a fish out of water, even more so than when he was in high school. How could he beat up bad guys but couldn’t talk to a guy he was supposed to keep an eye on? “Well, I like building models, and watching movies. Any movies you like?”

“Ever seen Cannibal Holocaust?” The Soldier huffed, not turning to face him. He was standing at the door, like a dog waiting for their owner to come back from the store.

“Oh, that’s the one that was so graphic for its time that they thought the director _actually_ killed the actors?” He and Ned liked interesting movie trivia, and MJ had told them about that one a while back. Even showed pictures. Ned had nightmares about the impaling scene for a week.

“Want to recreate it?” The Soldier growled.

Peter’s mouth snapped shut.

He watched as the man stared at the door.

“I’m, I’m just gonna, yeah.” Peter mumbled, pointing to the previously mentioned chair. “This chair, right?”

“Unless you want to sit in my semen, blood, or puke? Da.” He didn’t look towards him.

Peter’s mouth flattened as he sat down, watching the body across the room.

“Stop staring.” The Soldier growled.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, moving his eyes to the coffee table in front of him. His eyes caught a piece of paper, carefully picking up the sheet.

It was a note from Mr. Captain. It looked like a list.

“Dear Peter,” The paper read. “Please keep a good eye on Bucky and the rest of his system. Make sure Soldier eats and goes to the bathroom, as he has a tendency to forget. If Winnie fronts, try to keep him on the couch and give him some warm honey milk. If he or Jamesy need help changing, their-“

Peter nearly swallowed his own tongue at the next word on the paper. _Diapers._ The Winter Soldier, legendary assassin and war hero, wore- y’know what? He shouldn’t judge, he has no place to judge someone who suffered seventy years of torture. He was probably really insecure about it, maybe even upset if he knew Captain America had told him.

Oh god, was it supposed to be a secret? Well, it probably wasn’t, since Mr. Captain said it in a note like it was no big deal. But was he really going to have to help him change his diapers? He was fairly certain Mr. Soldier would rip his head off if he did. How would he know the difference if he needed help or not?

Wait, did he-

The image of what exactly that would entail made him involuntarily gag.

“What.” The Soldier was in front of him.

Peter shrieked in surprise.

“Nothing! I’m- nothing! What-what do you- I-“

The Soldier snatched the paper out of his hands. His face turned bright red under the muzzle.

“You are _not_ helping me. Understood?” He snapped. Peter nodded frantically.

“Yes Mr. Winter Soldier, sir. Understood.” Peter whimpered, raising his hands. “I wont tell anyone I-I didn’t see anything or-“

“Shut up.” The Soldier snarled before turning on his heel, storming off to another room and slamming a door hard enough to probably shake it off the hinges. Peter let out a breath that had been caught in his throat.

This was going to be a long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Cannibal Holocauste [is a real movie](%E2%80%9C) that people actually thought was a snuff film due to how realistically graphic it was.


	3. Leave A Message And I’ll Call You Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good, we love you, we’ll be back as soon as we can.” With that, the Falcon hung up the phone.
> 
> The Soldier was tempted to shatter the device against the wall.
> 
>  _Play nice,_ The Falcon’s simple instructions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a few references to fecal incontinence, though nothing graphic.
> 
> Reader Discretion is Advised.
> 
> Title is from the song [‘Spiderwebs’ by No Doubt](%E2%80%9C).

“Mr. Soldier? Sir?” Peter’s voice called through the door.

Fucking christ.

The Soldier was hiding in his closet, thoroughly humiliated. The Captain told this kid that he wore diapers, that he might have to help him _change_ him. That kid probably thought that he shits himself or something, like a complete invalid.

He shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, his skin prickling with shame.

“Mr. Soldier, sir? Mr. Wilson is calling me? He’s saying you aren’t answering and wants to make sure you’re okay?” Peter continued.

“Go away.” The Soldier barked.

“Okay, uh, here, I’ll put him on speaker and just-“ A moment of silence.

“Soldier. Answer this damn phone.” The Falcon’s voice, tinged through a satellite signal, echoed in the room. “I’ve been trying to call your ass for almost an hour! You answer this phone or so help me-“

“Here.” The Soldier growled into the phone, turning off the loud speaker.

“Winter Soldier Barnes, you have some kind of nerve making us worry about you like that.” The Falcon huffed. “We’re on the quinjet and we’ve been trying to call you to make sure you’re okay. You had me worried sick, big guy!”

“Captain told spider kid about my padding.” He growled.

“Soldier, that’s important information to disclose. Remember what happened with-“

“We couldn’t take care of ourselves then. Can take care of ourselves now.” The Soldier argued.

“And if Winnie comes out or you have joint problems and can’t? What then, hmm?” The Falcon sounded annoyed, angry. “Steve told Bucky this morning before you came out that he was writing down a list, and if he didn’t tell you then that’s on him, but it’s still important.”

“He’s a kid.” The Soldier huffed.

“He’s a legal adult and the only person who can watch you guys right now. I know you don’t like it but the faster you two get along the better. Now we need to go, play nice, alright?”

Silence.

“Soldier. Play nice. Am I understood?” The Falcon insisted.

“...Understood. Play nice.” The Soldier growled.

“Good, we love you, we’ll be back as soon as we can.” With that, the Falcon hung up the phone.

The Soldier was tempted to shatter the device against the wall.

 _Play nice,_ The Falcon’s simple instructions.

“He fucking told you?” The Soldier snarled.

‘Yeah, it sucks,’ Bucky’s voice rang from somewhere inside his skull. ‘But Steve and Sam are right, we can’t risk another-‘

“I can take care of myself, fuck you.” He snapped.

‘But you know Winnie can’t. Just be honest with the kid in order to save what little dignity we have, alright?’ Bucky huffed. ‘Hell, he probably followed the trial, and given the fact that he spends so much time with Stark, he’s probably seen- and dealt with- a lot worse.’

“And if I don’t?” The Soldier asked.

‘If you don’t, and we get diaper rash because you made Winnie too scared to accept help, I’m going to personally rip you limb from limb after we get through a record breaking Steve and Sam lecture.’ Bucky growled, clearly annoyed that he had to have this conversation at all, let alone in the back seat of his own damn body. ‘Got it?’

“...Got it.” The Soldier huffed.

A moment of silence.

“Mr. Winter Soldier, sir? Are you okay-“

The kid shrieked as he ripped open the door.

“Don’t eavesdrop.” He growled, handing the kid the phone.

“Right, sorry, sorry about that.” Peter whimpered. “I just, Mr. Wilson was really upset and worried and I tried to tell him you’re fine but he-“

“I don’t shit myself.” The Soldier growled.

“Wh- I’m sorry, that- you lost me, what?” Confusion was written all over the poor kid’s face.

‘Good going, fuckstick,’ Bucky barked from somewhere. ‘He probably didn’t even think that! Now he’s going to think we do because you keep your pride like your dick- unable to keep it to yourself!’

“Captain wrote you that list.” The Soldier said, as ‘nicely’ as he could. Bucky made a comment along the lines of ‘in what universe is that considered nice?’, though he chose to ignore it. “Stated our youngest might need help with changing. It’s only because we-“ A pause.

Peter was staring at him expectantly. He was _this close_ to scratching this kid’s eyes out.

A sigh. “We have issues with wetting, alright? That’s it. Nothing worse.” He huffed out. “Winnie is vulnerable and frail, he can’t function properly, so he might need help if he comes out.”

“Oh! That’s-that’s alright, sir! I kinda already knew tha- I mean- I-“ Peter turned white as a sheet the moment the words tumbled from his mouth.

Right, he knew. Everyone in the damn tower knew.

He could feel himself glaring daggers at the poor kid. It wasn’t his fault he was broken.

Still, he couldn’t help the scowl on his face.

“Never tell anyone. Got it?” He snarled.

“Understood. Got it. I-I don’t even have anyone to tell anyways!” Peter gulped, trying to smile in a remotely convincing way.

The Soldier held up the smallest finger of his left hand.

Peter stared at him in frightened confusion.

“Pinky promise. The little ones do it. You’re promising all of us that you will not sacrifice what little dignity we still have. Understood?” The Soldier explained.

“Oh, oh yeah, one hundred percent!” Peter laughed nervously, interlocking the small finger of his hand with his own. He caught a glimpse of a small hole near his wrist. Perhaps it was a scar, he knew a thing or two about those.

“Khorosho.” The Soldier nodded, pulling his hand back to his side.

The tense silence was palpable.

“So...” Peter mumbled, touching his finger tips together before puffing up his cheeks.

“Don’t do that. It looks like you’re hiding something in your mouth.” He sneered.

“Y’know, everyone tells me that!” Peter laughed. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read someone saying I look like a little kid trying to hide a frog in his mouth!”

The Soldier thought of the imagery, a small frog sitting on this kid’s tongue. He had never heard anything so absurdly ridiculous.

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in his chest.

“Hey! Hey-hey I made you laugh!” Peter grinned.

He immediately snarled at the kid, squashing the humors in his chest.

This was going to be a _long_ weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Brief Explanation**
> 
> Peter’s wrist-holes mentioned in the story are his web shooters, as I have a personal bias leaning towards the idea of natural web shooters from Tobey Maguire Spider Man movies. The use and limitations of his natural web shooters will be explored in later chapters.
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> Khorosho: okay/good


	4. What’s Normal For The Spider Is Chaos For The Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey hey, woah woah woah, this isn’t babysitting, Ned!” Peter huffed, holding up his hands. “This guy’s a war hero, he’s like a hundred and something years old! We’re just hanging out until the Captain and Stark and everyone get back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has references to past sexual abuse and torture.

“Dude, this is insane!” Ned’s voice rang from the laptop speakers.

“I know!” Peter grinned, watching his best friend’s face on the screen.

“I mean, how many people get to hang out with the Avengers _and_ babysit-“

“Hey hey, woah woah woah, this isn’t babysitting, Ned!” Peter huffed, holding up his hands. “This guy’s a war hero, he’s like a hundred and something years old! We’re just hanging out until the Captain and Stark and everyone get back.”

“Doesn’t he act like an actual child? I followed the whole trial.” MJ’s bored voice echoed through the speaker. Peter prayed the other man couldn’t hear him from the guest room.

“Dude, I heard about that online, like the guy who controlled Hydra, like, did something to his brain that made him act like a little kid. That’s so messed up.” Ned added on.

“It was for sexual gratification. The guy was basically a pedo with extra steps.” MJ explained.

Ned stared, slack jawed and wide eyed, at the screen. “Oh my god, that’s- holy _shit_ dude!”

“If you followed the trial, a lot of his therapy recordings were of him talking about what he did. Pretty fucked up, hearing a little kid’s voice in a trial for a deadly assassin.” MJ sounded like she couldn’t care less, but Peter could see the twinkle of interest in her eyes from a mile away. It was funny, in a fucked up sort of way, how much joy she got from disturbing and macabre things.

“I mean, I haven’t seen him act like a kid yet, but the Captain left me a note for ways to help him out, and it talks about like ‘Winnie’ and ‘Jamesy’ and-“

“His other personalities, yeah,” MJ piped up. “Well, that’s an outdated word, but you get the idea. He developed dissociative identity disorder from the torture, his therapists explained it on record for the trial.”

Ned stared at her. Psychology was never his strongest class.

“Originally called multiple personality disorder like, twenty years ago? A highly stigmatized and demonized disorder with the media painting people who have it to be deranged serial killers that forget what they’ve done? When in reality they’re the victims of chronic trauma that forces their brain to create substitutes to divide up the workload in order to focus on survival?” MJ sounded annoyed that she even had to explain it.

“Ohh, like that Split movie?” Ned asked.

MJ and Peter both pulled a face.

“No, not like that. What did I just say about the stigmatization and demonization in the media?” MJ huffed.

“Yeah, Ned, remember Psych with Ms. G?” Peter piped up. “There was a little section about it, and Flash said something about-“

“Oh shit _right,_ when he said they make up the majority of killers and Ms. G made him do a whole research paper on it?” Ned nodded. “Yeah, okay, I get that.”

“The trial explained that Barnes has about four mindsets, since personality would imply that it’s a personality disorder, which it isn’t.” MJ explained. “One that’s the closest to the ‘original’ James Buchanan Barnes, as close as you can get after the violations of our most basic human rights. Then the Winter Soldier who was meant to protect him from it by taking the torture for him, then the kids because of Pierce, one made by him and one to keep him company while he was brutally molested, raped, and tortured.”

“Jesus.” Peter and Ned shared the same thought.

“I’m sure if he existed, he would have nothing to do with that.” MJ shrugged. “Now I’ve got to get back to my homework for Calc. Catch you guys later. If you see any of the others of Barnes, let me know, Peter.” With that, her screen cut off and the chime from the speakers indicated that she had left.

“Man, that’s so fucked up.” Ned mumbled, looking a little green around the gills. “Now I just feel bad.”

“Me too, like, I knew he had gone through a lot, but I didn’t realize it was _that_ much.” Peter sighed. “That’s, that’s just sick, right?”

“Beyond sick, dude.” Ned nodded. “Man, wonder what that feels like, being forced to act like a little kid because something in your brain got fucked up.”

“I don’t think I want to know...” He mumbled. Truthfully, he hadn’t had the greatest childhood. Sure, it wasn’t seventy years of torture, but both his parents died when he was young, then his uncle died right in front of him, then he was nearly killed by a killer bird man and a guy with a fishbowl on his head that convinced him he was a good guy! His life was pretty crazy, all things considered.

What would it be like to relive it? To get even a shred of comfort from something that was originally horrible? To make new memories.

“Earth to Peter, hello? Dude?” Ned’s voice shook him from his thoughts.

“What? No no I’m good, I’m fine, dude.” Peter laughed awkwardly.

“Right, well,” Ned looked up and away from his screen. “My mom’s calling me for dinner, I need to head off. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah talk to you tomorrow.” Peter nodded. “Goodnight, Ned, I love you.”

“Love you too, Petey.” Ned smiled before closing out the app, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts.

What was it like, getting a new childhood? New memories that bring joy and warmth instead of sadness and fear? Did it hurt? Did it bring back painful memories?

Peter made a note on his computer to make a few searches online. After that, he stepped out into the living room of the apartment. Mr. Barnes was nowhere to be seen, so he padded over to his closed door, knocking a few times.

“ _What._ ” The Soldier’s voice barked from behind the door, making Peter jump.

“Hey, sorry, I just noticed it’s about dinner time and- I mean, if you’re not hungry then I’m okay, but- like, the Captain said on the list that you need to eat and-“

The door opened, revealing the Soldier, the same as he was not a few hours ago.

“I’m not making you dinner.” He snarled. Peter could only imagine why this guy wore a muzzle all the time. Was it to protect others from him, or to protect himself from something in his past? Maybe both.

“Oh, no! I-I can cook just fine, or-or I can like have Jarv order something for us? Do you like pizza?” Peter offered.

A moment of tense, bone chilling silence.

“...What _kind_ of pizza?” He heard from behind the muzzle.

“Any kind you like! We can ask Jarvis to order some from anywhere and they can deliver it up here, if you want.” Peter smiled.

“...Okay. Pizza.” The Soldier nodded.

“Sweet! Hey, Jarvis? Place an order!” Peter called up towards the ceiling. It was always fun being able to talk to the AI.

After much deliberation, and an hour of waiting, the two were alerted to the pizza’s arrival at their floor.

The Soldier seemed really happy when they opened the door to see Ms. Potts holding the boxes.

“Hey you guys, these were brought to the front desk, and I figured I’d check in, make sure you two haven’t burned down the apartment yet.” Ms. Potts smiled. “Though I’m sure nothing you two could do would possibly be worse than anything Tony’s done.”

“Pepper.” The Soldier growled. Peter was worried that he was angry, until the woman set the pizza boxes down and let him pull her into a hug.

“Hey there, big guy. It’s good to see you too, but I’ve got to run. I have another meeting in five and-“

“Spacibo, go.” The Soldier politely lead the woman back to the door, her waving goodbye on the way out.

Peter had never seen such a strange interaction.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as the man already started gathering his food onto his plate.

“Y’know, I never thought about trying pepperoni and pineapple together.” Peter said as the two sat down at the table. “Is it good?”

The Soldier glared at him. He hadn’t taken his muzzle off.

“Uh, do you...do you need help with-“

“Don’t patronize me.” The Soldier snapped before reaching behind his head, unclasping the mask and setting it down on the table. He had to admit, the man was just as handsome as we was in the photos. Not that it mattered, of course, Peter just had a photographer’s eye.

He watched as the man bit into his food. Something about it creeped him out a little, like something was off, but he couldn’t tell what. Uncanny valley, but in real life.

The Soldier stopped eating and stared at him before snarling, baring his teeth.

 _That’s_ what was off. His teeth. His canines looked way longer than normal, and unnaturally sharp at the points, and his incisors had small ridges like new grown adult teeth, the kind that were supposed to be ground down over time naturally.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare people down?” He growled, pulling Peter from his thoughts.

“Right, sorry, I wasn’t- I mean I didn’t mean to-“

“You stumble a lot.” The Soldier mumbled.

“Sorry.” Peter mumbled back.

Dinner was accompanied by a long, awkward silence.


	5. Not So Itsy Bitsy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier carefully slipped out of bed, his socked feet landing silently on the floor. He carefully padded out of the room, slowly inching his way towards the Falcon’s room, eyes glancing to every possible hiding spot in the apartment.
> 
> He jumped when he heard talking from the guest room.

He couldn’t sleep.

The Captain and The Falcon were on the other side of the world and there was a stranger in his home and he couldn’t sleep. The Soldier glared at his phone on the bedside table, reading two hundred hours on the dot. He groaned as he laid back, exhausted yet too high strung to even _think_ about sleeping.

Maybe if he tried to sleep in the Falcon’s bed?

But that would require walking past the guest room. What if the kid was waiting to string him up and kill him? Spiders trap their prey, don’t they? Maybe he was an ambush spider.

But he couldn’t sleep without the others nearby. Maybe the Falcon’s scent on his sheets would help him get some rest?

But he couldn’t risk the danger. He didn’t know what this kid was capable of.

But he missed his loves.

His need for comfort outweighed his need for survival.

The Soldier carefully slipped out of bed, his socked feet landing silently on the floor. He carefully padded out of the room, slowly inching his way towards the Falcon’s room, eyes glancing to every possible hiding spot in the apartment.

He jumped when he heard talking from the guest room.

“ _I just, I don’t know, Ned,_ ” It was the spider-child, likely talking to someone on the phone. Were they planning to ransack the apartment and kidnap him? “ _I mean, am I, am I wrong?_ ”

A moment of silence, the sound of another voice barely registering.

“ _I know, I know, but he went through so much. He_ deserves _this kind of comfort. I just-_ ” The kid sounded upset. He was obviously talking about him behind his back, which he _really_ didn’t appreciate. “ _I feel like it’s wrong for me to want that, he can’t control how he feels, y’know? He didn’t want that, right?_ ”

He was talking about the little ones.

“ _No! No no- I mean- why would- I don’t need them, so why should I want them, right?_ ” Another moment of silence. “ _Ned, I wasn’t tortured for seventy years. Losing my parents and Uncle Ben isn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to him. It’s not fair for me to want that when he didn’t even get the choice. You know what MJ said about the trial, the shit he went through._ ”

The Soldier wasn’t sure if he felt more angry that this kid was talking about him behind his back, or worried that this kid sounded so unsure about something.

“ _Ned, it-it feels like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve that kind of comfort. Wanting that just makes me a sicko, right? Like he didn’t ask for that, he didn’t want it, so why should I?_ ” The kid sounded like he was crying, or at least on the verge of tears, and suddenly he felt really, really bad. He had been such a jerk to this kid all night, and now this poor kid was crying to his friend about wanting comfort.

He felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

He realized he hadn’t heard talking for a moment.

“ _Ned, I gotta go, I just- my spidey sense is going off and it feels like someone’s listening-_ ”

The Soldier slipped into the Falcon’s room before the kid could hang up the phone, already tucked under his boyfriend’s covers. He listened as the door opened, then footsteps leading away, then footsteps leading back, then the door closing.

He didn’t think he was going to get any sleep that night.


	6. The Tangled Thread of the Interweb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sure, he had heard about people who acted like children and called their partners 'daddy' for fantasy role plays in the bedroom, but he thought that was the only kind there was. He didn't know there was a whole community of people who only did it to cope with trauma that was completely separate.
> 
> That's how he ended up on the verge of a panic attack at two AM in the middle of Avengers Tower, waking his poor boyfriend out of a dead sleep for his own selfish comfort.
> 
> That's what he was. Selfish.

He was sick.

He was a sick, horrible person for even entertaining the idea that he might enjoy something like this.

Peter had found himself unable to sleep in the guest bedroom in Captain America's apartment, plagued by thoughts of _what if_ and _how come_ and _would I_ that lead him down a rabbit hole of internet searches. Searches about people who pretend to be children again, about people who regress into that headspace as a way to cope with stressors, about people who are forced to feel that way because of mental disorders caused by trauma, about people who choose to act that way while having sex.

He resonated far too much with that first one, a sinking feeling in his chest that left him feeling jittery and anxious for something he didn't know what.

Sure, he had heard about people who acted like children and called their partners 'daddy' for fantasy role plays in the bedroom, but he thought that was the only kind there was. He didn't know there was a whole community of people who only did it to cope with trauma that was completely separate.

That's how he ended up on the verge of a panic attack at two AM in the middle of Avengers Tower, waking his poor boyfriend out of a dead sleep for his own selfish comfort.

That's what he was. Selfish.

"Peter, you've got to calm down." Ned's voice didn't sound nearly as tired as it did five minutes ago when he had first woken up after the third time Peter tried to call him. "You're working yourself up over something you don't even know at, like, two in the morning."

"But Ned," Peter sighed, staring at the 'Age Regression' forum page he had stumbled upon after searching up 'how to properly care for child alters' in order to mentally prepare himself for when he would likely meet Mr. Barnes 'system littles'. "This, this feels like, like when your brain can't stop thinking about something because it feels- I don't know, it just feels like, like _something_ "

"Maybe your subconscious is telling you to try it? You said people use it to cope with trauma, right?" Ned's voice through the speaker felt like his lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own self doubt in that very moment. "How do you think you feel about it? I know you've gone through some hard shit, man."

"I guess..." Peter mumbled, staring at the screen of his laptop. "I guess, I don't know, that maybe I'd like it? Maybe it'd be kinda nice to like, kinda get that back, y'know? Before everything went to shit."

"Then that's your answer, dude." Ned sounded far too sure, like he knew it was the perfect answer.

Peter's hair stood on end, that familiar gut feeling that told him something was wrong. That stupid anxiety had been wrong before, so it was probably just set off by his own stupid emotions getting the best of him.

"I just, I don’t know, Ned," He sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. "I mean, am I, am I wrong?"

"Peter, if you think something like this would help you feel better, then I don't see how it could be wrong." Ned said. "MJ said that Mr. Barnes feels like that sometimes, right? It's not really the same but still, you should-"

"I know, I know," Peter huffed. "But he went through so much. He _deserves_ this kind of comfort. I just-" He couldn't help the way his voice cracked up a few octaves, trying his best to quell his frightened, anxious tears. "I feel like it's wrong for me to want that, He can't control how he feels, y'know? He didn't want that, right?"

"I don't know, dude. I'm not him, and you aren't either." Ned huffed, his lack of sleep clearly catching up with him. "MJ also said from the trial that he has to wear diapers or something, right? Like it's a comfort thing? Some people do that too, and I wont judge you if you want-"

" _No!_ " Peter didn't mean for that to come out like a shriek. "No no- I mean- why would- I don't need them, so why should I want them, right?"

"For comfort, like MJ said, and like these websites are saying?" Ned pointed out.

"Ned, I wasn't tortured for seventy years." Peter huffed, his own emotions pissing him off. "Losing my parents and Uncle Ben isn't even a drop in the bucket compared to him. It's not fair for me to want that when he didn't even get the choice. You know what MJ said about the trial, the shit he went through."

"But that doesn't change the fact that losing them hurt like hell, right? That it fucked up your childhood a lot, right?" Ned pointed out. "So what if it isn't seventy years of torture? You can't even drink yet and you lost both your parents and your uncle, and live with your aunt and fight bad guys that nearly kill you! If anyone should want comfort and security away from all of that, it would be you, right?"

"Ned, it-" He had to clear his throat to keep himself from sobbing. "It feels like I don't deserve it. I don't deserve that kind of comfort. Wanting that just makes me a sicko, right?" He stared at the screen, the pastel building block logo mocking him. "Like, he didn't ask for that, he didn't want it, so why should I?"

"I don't think that matters right now, dude. Look at all these other people, they all do it for less reasons than you, right? He-"

"Shh." Peter hushed him. He couldn't shake the anxiety that coursed through his veins, his hair still standing on end. He usually tried to ignore that gut feeling, but it seemed to only grow the more he spoke.

He felt like he wasn't alone.

"Ned, I gotta go, I just- my spidey sense is going off and it feels like someone's listening in on me, y'know?" Peter whispered into the phone.

"Alright, stay safe, okay Petey? And don't let yourself spiral like this, dude. I'll be here if you want to keep talking." Ned's voice sounded so reassuring, so _comforting_ , like somehow, everything was going to be okay.

"Alright, I love you, Ned." Peter sighed.

"I love you too, Petey." Ned hummed.

With that, Peter hung up his phone and slipped it into the waistband of his sleep pants, pinning it against his hip as a mock pocket as he carefully stepped towards the door. He pressed the tips of his fingers to the wall, carefully scaling up to the ceiling before quietly pulling open the door. He winced as the door's hinges squeaked, betraying his attempt at stealth. What was the point of high-tech doors if they couldn't even fix the squeaky hinges?

He carefully crawled over the top of the doorway, making his way into the hallway. If someone had been in there, they were gone by now, along with his tingling anxiety.

Was Mr. Barnes listening in on him?

He wasn't about to try and check. He was fairly certain Mr. Winter Soldier would slaughter him if he accidentally woke him up.

Peter carefully swung his legs off of the ceiling, silently dropping to the floor. He made a quick parameter check before making his way to the bathroom. A leak and some water to his face would hopefully calm him down.

"It's nothing. It's nothing." Peter mumbled to himself as he took care of his business, praying he didn't accidentally wake the man in the other room up by flushing the toilet, before making his way to the sink. After washing his hands and splashing cold water onto his own face, he took a long look at himself in the mirror.

He noticed a sticky note on the glass.

"Jamesy, remember to go potty before bed. Your dinosaur diapers are in the 2nd cabinet. We love you. -Papa." The note read, though it didn't look like Mr. Steve's handwriting. He supposed Mr. Wilson wrote it, judging by process of elimination.

Wait, Mr. Barnes had _dinosaur_ diapers? He figured they would be just plain adult ones, if he were really upset about having to wear them like he seemed. Maybe he was just upset that Mr. Steve had told him in the note?

"Second cabinet..." Peter mumbled, looking over the shelves and drawers in the bathroom closet. Did it count as snooping? He reasoned that he would have to know where they are eventually if Jamesy wanted them at some point. He was just being proactive, that's all. He managed to locate the second cabinet, carefully pulling the door open.

He wasn't sure what he expected.

Inside the cabinet were a few packages of diapers and pull-ups stacked on top of each other, though each with a different design, or lack thereof. He found the ones with pastel dinosaurs on them, then another package of some with planes and cars and numbered sheep. He had to admit, they were pretty cute, and really out of place for what he had seen that day.

Wait, if any part of Mr. Barnes hated having that kind of comfort, or didn't want it now, why would he specifically want diapers with cute drawings on them?

Maybe he wasn't so wrong in wanting that kind of comfort after all?


	7. Down Came The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had woken up around eight in the morning after a few more rounds of internet surfing the previous night. He full expected Mr. Soldier to be up long before him, waiting to bark at him for something like he had all day yesterday.
> 
> He was caught off guard when he heard crying coming from a room that was definitely _not_ Mr. Barnes’ room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has brief references to blood.

Peter panicked when he heard crying from the other room first thing in the morning.

He had woken up around eight in the morning after a few more rounds of internet surfing the previous night. He full expected Mr. Soldier to be up long before him, waiting to bark at him for something like he had all day yesterday.

He was caught off guard when he heard crying coming from a room that was definitely _not_ Mr. Barnes’ room.

“Uh, Mr. Barnes? Are you okay?” Peter carefully knocked on the door, waiting for a familiar snarl.

Instead, he was greeted with more crying.

“Here, hang on, let me just-“ He grabbed the doorknob, trying to open the door to no avail. “It’s locked, do you want me to leave you alone?”

The cries got louder, more frantic.

“Okay, okay! Geez, uh,” Peter looked around for anything he could use to open the door. Would he get in trouble for breaking into a room in the apartment? “Jarvis? Are you there?”

“I am always here, Master Parker.” The AI voice answered calmly.

“Is Mr. Barnes in there? Can you open the door?” Peter asked.

“Master Barnes is in that room, though he appears to be experiencing a dissociative episode, and his heart rate indicates moderate levels of stress. I will unlock the door for you.” Jarvis explained. Peter heard the telltale _click_ of the latch and carefully pushed open the door.

He found Mr. Barnes curled up in a fetal position on the bed, clinging to the blanket wrapped around him. Was he hurt? Was he going to lunge at him? Did the note say anything about this? The room stunk with ammonia, and he could see a pretty big wet patch on the bed sheets.

He felt eyes on him for a brief moment, then heard a frightened squeal. He watched Mr. Barnes pull the blanket over his head, trying to hide like a child.

_Like a child._

Oh shit.

“Hey, hey little guy, it’s okay.” Peter tried his best to sound gentle and sturdy, like he wasn’t about to piss himself in fear. What did those websites say, keep a friendly tone like talking to a real child? Ask for their name? “It’s alright, my name’s Peter, what’s yours?”

He was met with frightened whimpers.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to get some breakfast?” Peter tried so hard to think of something that would help.

He only got more whimpers.

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna call Mr. Wilson, alright?” Peter grabbed his phone from his waistband.

“ _Papa._ ” The body under the covers whimpered out.

Okay, he was getting somewhere. Hopefully.

He dialed Mr. Wilson’s number in his phone, listening to the dial tone.

“This is The Falcon. Peter, you alright?” Mr. Wilson’s voice rang through.

“Hi, hi Mr. Wilson, I’m good, I’m- right! Right uh, I woke up and Mr. Barnes wasn’t in his room and he’s in this room with red walls and he’s crying and wont answer me?” Peter tried to explain.

“That’s my room. Here, give him the phone.” Mr. Wilson explained.

——

He panicked when he woke up in Papa’s bed, ruined padding soaked through to the sheets.

He didn’t mean to make a mess.

He had a nightmare that night, the thought of everyone yelling at him for being such a terrible, mean, ungrateful monster scared him something awful. He woke up cold and soaked and didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t help the sobs that escaped from his chest.

He barely heard the door to the room open, and shrieked when he saw a stranger walk into the room. He tried his best to hide under the covers, hoping the stranger would go away and not hurt him.

He felt a hand place something next to his head on the bed.

“Winnie? Baby bear? You okay?” It was Papa’s voice.

Papa was going to punish him for ruining his nice clean sheets and his new mattress.

“N’oh...” He sniffled, trying his best to hide away from the voice.

“Awe, lamb, what’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?” Papa didn’t sound angry, maybe he didn’t know? Maybe he could hide his mistake?

But hiding mistakes was lying, and lying was manipulative. He would be punished for lying.

But he would be punished for telling the truth.

“ _So’ry_.” He whimpered, trying his best to hold in his sobs.

“Winnie, there’s no need to be sorry. Do you need help getting changed?”

Papa needed to know, Papa could help make everything better again, right?

“Wet.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I bet. If you need help changing, Mr. Pet-“

“No, _wet_.” He whimpered, and he knew he was being bad for interrupting, but he couldn’t help it. “Wet, Papa, _so’ry._ ”

Papa’s voice was gone, and Winnie was terrified that he was leaving to get a belt to hit him with.

“ _Oh_ , you leaked? The bed is wet?” Papa’s voice came back.

“ _Sorry!_ ” He yelped, trembling from a mix of cold and fear.

“No no, sweet pea, it was an accident. No one’s mad at you, you’re not in trouble.” Papa tried to comfort him. It didn’t help, didn’t make _anything_ feel better.

“Papa bed. Sorry.” Winnie whimpered out, trying his hardest to make him understand, even if he knew he would get in so much trouble for it.

“I know, lamb. It’s okay, it was just an accident, you didn’t mean for it to happen, it’s okay.” Papa reassured. “Can you let Mr. Peter know so he can help you get cleaned up? I promise he wont hurt you. Hand the phone back to him so I can tell him what to do, okay?”

With trembling paws, Winnie held the phone out from underneath the blankets.

——

Peter had been listening to the quiet, terrified voice peeping out from beneath the blanket. He felt awful, seeing how upset the poor guy was, a complete 180° from yesterday’s aggression. He tried to focus on anything other than the frightened, whimpering voice talking into the phone. He watched as a shaky hand held his phone back out from the blankets.

“Mr. Wilson? Are you there?”

“Peter, hey,” Mr. Wilson’s voice answered. “Winnie had a nightmare and leaked a little bit. He’s gonna need help getting calmed down and cleaned up, and the sheets are gonna have to go in the wash. Steve left a list on the washing machine explaining how to clean up the mattress.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that!” Peter nodded. Was it the weirdest thing he’s cleaned up in his life? Nope. Was it the grossest? Also nope. He could handle this. With a few more rushed instructions, Mr. Wilson hung up, mentioning that they were arriving at a mission checkpoint. Peter slipped his phone back into his waistband before crouching down to the side of the bed. “Hey, Winnie? Is that your name?”

He watched as the head under the blanket nodded, a sniffle barely audible.

“Hey there, I’m Peter. Mr. Soldier and I met a few weeks ago for sparring practice. Do you remember that?”

A head shake ‘no’. Of course, why would he remember that? They had different memories.

“Right, well, I’m sure you aren’t to comfy laying in that soaked bed, do you think you can walk with me to the bath?”

The body flinched at the word ‘bath’, curling up tighter and whimpering louder.

“Hey hey, it’s okay! I’m not gonna hurt you! It’s okay!” Peter tried to reassure him, holding up his hands like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. Right, that Hydra guy MJ mentioned probably did fucked up shit to him in a bathtub, he should’ve thought of that. “We can just get you cleaned up with some wipes if you aren’t comfortable with a bath right now, okay? We just need to get you cleaned and the sheets washed.”

He watched with bated breath as the head carefully poked out from beneath the covers. Wide, wet, frightened eyes stared at his chest, then at his hair, then somewhere near his shoulder.

“There you go, it’s okay.” Peter smiled, carefully holding his hand out. He shoved down a flinch as a shaky hand found its way into his. “That’s it, you’re safe. Do you want me to carry you?”

That made him perk up. He cocked his head to the side. “Carry?”

“Yeah, I can lift you easy! Here, watch.” He let the body shuck off the blanket covering him before he carefully scooped him up, avoiding the large wet patch on his pant leg and up the back of his shirt. Sure, he was bulky, but he wasn’t the heaviest thing he’s ever lifted by any means. He couldn’t help the slight shutter as the body’s breath puffed against his neck, but he shoved away his feelings of absurd awkwardness as he carried the body to the bathroom closest to the room. “Alright, here, do you think you can get your pants off for me?” He asked as he set Winnie down on the closed toilet seat lid.

Winnie stared up at him, an apprehensive, terrified look carved into his face.

“I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to get your pajamas off so I can clean you up and get you into some new clothes, okay?” Peter tried his best to sound reassuring. How was he supposed to do this with someone in a 260 lbs body that was just a couple inches taller than him?

The frightened child(?) just stared at him some more.

“Okay, here, can I help take these off? So I can clean you up?” Peter placed a hand on his knee, watching as the other’s eyes followed his hand. A few seconds passed before the other nodded. “Alright, good. Just sit still for me, okay?”

With that, Peter got to work digging his finger tips beneath the waistband, carefully shuffling down the soaked clothing. He tried really hard to not focus on the shredded mess of urine soaked padding inside the fabric, nor the fact that he was now kneeling in front of a half naked Winter Soldier with the mind of an actual traumatized infant. Once he pulled the fabric down his legs and off over his feet, he got to work locating a washcloth and a towel. Once the items were in hand, he turned on the warm water in the sink.

“Here, I’m going to wash your legs, okay?” Peter showed him the cloth before dipping it under the stream of the faucet, wringing it out and holding it up to show him again. “I’m also going to have to clean between your legs so it doesn’t get a rash, okay?”

The poor thing looked petrified, like he could recognize how weird this was but couldn’t do anything about it. Peter felt sick just looking at him.

He must feel so ashamed.

“Hey, Winnie, it’s okay.” Peter tried to sound friendly and caring, like how Aunt May sounded when he first woke up soaked in blood in his own bed. She reassured him that it was okay, that it was part of nature, as much as he hated it and _still_ hated it to this day. “It happens, no one’s going to hurt you. I’m just going to clean you up, then get a new diaper and some clean clothes on you, okay?”

The body in front of him gulped hard.

“Kay.” He puffed out, his face bright red.

“Okay, good, I’ll just-“ Peter tried to focus on his task, gently scrubbing the cloth up the body’s thighs. He kept his face neutral but passive, trying to be as professional as possible. He stared at the body’s sleep shirt as he carefully scrubbed the cloth over his flaccid junk, trying his best to not think about it too much. This was probably way more embarrassing for Mr. Barnes than it was for him. “You’re doing great, Winnie. You’re being very brave. I know your Daddy and Papa are gonna be so proud of you-“

He jumped when the body in front of him burst into tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Peter set the cloth down, holding up his hands. “Winnie, it’s okay, no one’s mad at you!”

“ _Scared!_ ” Winnie peeped, curling up on himself.

_Oh._

“Winnie, I know, I know you’re scared.” Peter carefully pat the child’s shoulder, hoping he didn’t accidentally scare him more. “It was just an accident, no one’s going to punish you, and no one’s going to hurt you. Those bad memories are in the past. I’m almost done cleaning you up, then we’ll get some nice warm clothes on you, then we can spend the whole day playing and relaxing, okay? No scary things, I promise.”

“...Pr’mise?” Winnie whimpered.

“I pinky promise.” Peter held up the little finger of his left hand, remembering what Mr. Soldier had told him yesterday. He watched the body’s eyes light up before a shaky finger wrapped around his own. “There we go, see? You can’t break a pinky promise.”

After a few more tense, silent moments, Winnie set his legs back down, a look of determination on his face. “R’edy.”

“Good! You’re so brave!” Peter smiled. It was a little easier being able to talk to him like a real child, seeing the raw emotions behind his eyes.

It took him all of ten seconds to finish cleaning the boy up.

“There! All done!” He smiled, earning a sniffle and a watery smile from the body across from him. “I’m gonna go get you a fresh diaper, okay? Is there a specific one you want?”

Winnie made a face like he was trying to think of what to say, like how Peter felt when he was stuck on a question in Spanish class back in high school.

Right, he was a really young child, he probably couldn’t talk very well.

“Here, uh,” He thought back to the packages he had seen in the cabinet the night before. “Would you like the dinosaur ones, or the car ones?” He held up one hand per option, internally sighing in relief when Winnie poked his left hand. “The car ones?” A nod. “Got it. Good choice!” He smiled. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

——

Winnie watched as Mister Peter walked out of the bathroom.

He couldn’t help the trembles in his chest, the way his stuffing felt like it was in the tumble drier. He tried to curl up on himself to keep himself warm, but only succeeded in nearly falling off the toilet seat.

He wanted his Papa. He wanted his Daddy.

“Hey, I’m back, Winnie.” Mister Peter smiled, holding a familiar, folded up diaper in his hand. “I think I found the kind you wanted, see?”

Winnie couldn’t help the way his fur crawled, like his insides had been replaced with worms. He never felt this way with Daddy or Papa or even Miss Pepper.

But he trusted them. They were familiar. Mister Peter was _not_ familiar.

He didn’t mean to start crying, his breath catching in his throat.

“Hey, hey-hey you don’t need to cry, it’s okay, is it- is it me? Do you want me to let you do it? I-I can step out if you want to do it on your own.” Mister Peter pointed to the door of the bathroom. Winnie knew he couldn’t do it on his own, and that he would get in so much trouble for being difficult and making a bigger mess than he already had. But he _really_ didn’t want this stranger touching him any more than he already had. He had already been so brave when he let the man clean him, wasn’t that enough?

He tucked his head to his chest in shame.

“Hey, I know, I know this isn’t fun for you.” Mister Peter kneeled in front of him. “Trust me, this isn’t fun for me either.”

“Sorry...” Winnie whimpered, trying to curl up on himself. He was disgusting and making Mister Peter uncomfortable.

“Oh! Oh _nononono_ not because of _you!_ I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Mister Peter sighed. “I meant, it’s not fun seeing you so sad. I know you don’t feel good, and that you just want your daddy home, yeah?”

“A-an’ _papa._ ” He sniffled out.

“Yeah, I know. I know you want them home to help you, and I’m sorry that I’m not them, I’m sorry I’m not a good substitute.” Mister Peter looked so sad, his head tucked down, staring at his thumbs as they stroked over the fabric of the padding in his hand. “I-I’m sorry I’m not good enough, I never am.”

Winnie felt awful.

He didn’t have the words to tell Mister Peter otherwise. He wanted to tell him that he _is_ good enough, that he’s trying his best and that it’s not his fault he’s scared, but the words died in his throat.

Winnie climbed off of the toilet seat lid, carefully sitting down in front of the man before putting his paw over his fretful hands.

“What? You, you still want me to help you?” Mister Peter looked shocked, soggy tears still streaking down his cheeks.

“Help.” Winnie nodded, gently stroking the man’s hands with his paws.

“A-alright, thank you.” Mister Peter smiled. “Uh, do you normally do this laying down or standing up? I’m-I’m not sure how you-“

Trying desperately to ignore the squirming feeling in his guts, Winnie let himself lay down, wincing at the cool laminate against his back.

“Oh! Oh that’s too cold for you to lay on, here, here.” Mister Peter stood up, gathered a towel- along with a bottle of baby powder- from the closet, set the fabric on the floor, and carefully lifted the little bucky bear off of the floor and onto the towel like he weighed as much as a tub of toys. “There we go, that feels better, right?”

Winnie nodded, the warm fabric was a _lot_ more comfortable than the cold, hard floor.

“Alright, I’ll just, uh...” Mister Peter mumbled.

——

He was a lot more confident doing this two minutes ago, before the two of them started crying together.

 _What the fuck, Peter?_ His inner voice yelped. _You’re making this more uncomfortable the longer you sit here!_

But how the hell was he supposed to put a diaper on a 260 lbs toddler without it being weird?!

He could feel the body’s eyes on him, expectant and trying so very hard to be brave for him. He had to show that same level of respect, dammit.

“Alright, here, uh, can you lift your...” God, he was out of his element.

He was grateful when the body in front of him got the message, lifting his hips enough for him to situate the now unfolded padding beneath him. It was all smooth sailing from there, surely. He grabbed the nearby bottle of powder and lightly dusted his skin and the padding.

“Good job, you’re doing great,” Peter couldn’t tell if he was talking to Winnie or himself. Maybe both. “You’re doing absolutely fantastic.” Peter managed to get the front of the padding over the body’s groin and, after securely fastening the tapes to the front, helped the body sit up on the towel. “Does that feel alright? Not too tight or too loose?”

He watched as Winnie squirmed a little, adjusting the padding himself, before lunging at him. Peter nearly webbed the poor thing against the wall before he realized he was being pulled into a hug.

He now had 260 lbs of toddler sobbing into his shoulder.

“There there, you did perfect. You did absolutely fantastic.” Peter tried his best to reassure the frightened child, wrapping his arms around him and patting his back for good measure. “You were so brave, weren’t you?”

After a few more uncomfortable minutes, Winnie finally stopped crying enough to let Peter slip some lounge pants over his legs and carefully carry him to the couch. He tried to leave him on the couch in order to find the list Mr. Steve left him and get his breakfast going, but the moment he tried to pull away, Winnie’s arms tightened around him.

“Alright, okay, I’ll lay with you.” Peter mumbled, carefully situating himself on the couch, letting the body squirm up against his side, his head resting on his chest. It was less unnerving than he expected, he mostly felt an odd sense of pride, seeing how much Winnie trusted him after such a rocky morning.

The day would surely be smooth sailing from there, right?


	8. That Washed The Spider Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If someone had told him three years ago that he would be warming up a bottle of milk for the notorious Winter Soldier with the mind of an infant, he would’ve called them crazy.
> 
> “Here you go, little guy. One warm-“
> 
> He ducked as a pillow was chucked at his face.

It all started with breakfast.

Peter was doing just fine, all things considered, as he read off Mr. Steve’s instructions on how to make a warm bottle of honey milk for Winnie. If someone had told him three years ago that he would be warming up a bottle of milk for the notorious Winter Soldier with the mind of an infant, he would’ve called them crazy.

“Here you go, little guy. One warm-“

He ducked as a pillow was chucked at his face.

“Hey, what was that for?!” He huffed, watching as the body on the couch reached for another pillow, throwing it directly at his head. He tucked to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile. “What’s wrong? Why are you throwing pillows at me?!”

“Papa.” Winnie huffed, like that made any sense, before throwing yet another pillow at him. “Not Papa.”

“I know, Papa and Daddy are on a mission, remem-“

“ _NOT PAPA._ ” Winnie barked, which thankfully sounded nothing like Mr. Soldier’s bark, because that would’ve been terrifying to hear. “WAN’ _PAPA!_ ”

“I know! I _know!_ ” Peter huffed. “Papa’s gonna be back in a couple days, okay? You just gotta be patien-“

He didn’t manage to avoid the next pillow, which hit him square in the face.

“Would you stop that?!” Peter whined, picking up the pillows from off the floor. He watched as Winnie grabbed for the last one, and grabbed it as it was launched towards his face.

“NOT PAPA. NOT DADDY.” Winnie barked.

“Alright, that’s it.” Peter growled, pressing down on the heel of his free had with his middle and ring finger, shooting a web towards the remaining throw pillows on the rest of the couches. “No more pillows for you.” He huffed as he pulled the string back, taking the now webbed up pillows with him.

He winced when Winnie let out an ear-splitting scream.

What the hell was going on? Why was he so angry?

“Winnie! Calm down!” Peter whined, trying to cover his ears with his shoulders. “What’s wrong?!”

“ _PAPA_.” Winnie shrieked, legs kicking at the arm of the couch.

“I know! I know you’re angry that he’s not here, but don’t take it out on me!” Peter huffed. “You can have the pillows back when you’re done trying to throw them!”

That was apparently the wrong answer, as Winnie managed to scream even louder.

Was this normal? The lists Mr. Steve and Mr. Wilson left didn’t say anything about this!

“Master Parker,” Jarvis’ voice rang out over the wails. “I have taken the liberty of contacting Miss Potts, as Captain Rogers and Master Wilson are currently unavailable.”

“Nononono- Jarvis I’ve got this-“ Peter yelped, webbing the pillows to the ceiling as his phone rang. He answered it, using his now free hand to cover his ear.

“Peter? Is everything alright?” Ms. Potts voice sounded concerned. “Jarvis just told me Bucky’s having issues?”

“No, it’s fine! We’re fine!” Peter tried to sound reassuring. “He’s just a little cranky, I’ve got it all under-“

“ _NOT PAPA!_ ” Winnie shrieked, now upgrading to taking the cushions off of the couch and chucking them at him as hard as he can. Peter yelped as he jumped to avoid the cushion thrown his way.

“It doesn’t _sound_ like everything’s fine.” Ms. Potts noted, incredulous. “Do you need me to come down there?”

“ _No!_ No, no I’ve got this, he’s just a little frustrated, I understand! I’ll get him calmed in no ti- _IIIME WINNIE PUT THAT DOWN!_ ” Peter shrieked as he shot a web, snagging the lamp that he managed to grab from the side table.

“Peter, it’s very noble that you want to do this on your own, but if he’s this much trouble, I can reschedule my meeting and come down there.” Ms. Potts offered.

“I’ve got this! He’s just a little fussy!” Peter webbed the lamp to the wall, just in time to catch a book being thrown at his head. Where did he even find a book?! “Don’t worry about me Ms. Potts, I’ve got everything under control.”

“ _NOT PAPA._ ” Winnie screamed, obviously disagreeing.

“Alright, I have a break block between meetings at 2:30. I’ll come down there and check on you then, okay?” Ms. Potts said, much to Peter’s dismay.

“Ms. Potts, thank you, but I promise I’ve got this-“

“I don’t doubt you, Peter,” Ms. Potts cut him off. “But I also know Winnie can be a bit of a handful when he’s upset. I’ve got to go, I’ll see you two at 2:30, got it?”

“Got it...” Peter sighed as the phone call cut out. He ducked as another couch cushion was launched towards his head.

Peter had an idea.

A good five minutes and several feet of web fluid later, Peter had managed to web up all of the throw-able items in Winnie’s reach, leaving him screaming up a storm on a cushionless couch.

“There, now how about your milk? I bet you’ll feel better after something warm in your tummy, yeah?” Peter smiled, holding the now lukewarm bottle in his hands. He sighed in relief when Winnie held his hands out to him, setting the bottle in his palms. “There you go, good bo-“

He didn’t have time to duck by the time the bottle hit his forehead.

“ _OW!_ ” Peter yelped, cupping his head as Winnie screamed louder. Even if he wasn’t Bucky, he sure had the willpower of him.

“ _NOT PAPA._ ” Winnie barked.

“I know I’m not your Papa, okay? Damn!” Peter huffed, rubbing his now aching forehead. “That’s no excuse to be mean to me, is it?”

“NOT PAPA.” Winnie was adamant.

“I know!” Peter barked back, frustrated as all hell. “Do you want me to call your Papa? Tell him all about how much of a bully you’re being?!”

Winnie finally fell silent.

That was, until he started crying.

“Oh no, oh nononono _no please don’t cry I’m sorry!_ ” Peter whined, immediately regretting his threat. “I’m not gonna call Papa, okay? He’s busy anyways, just please stop trying to throw things at me, okay?”

Winnie clearly wasn’t listening, now curled up on the couch with his back turned to him as he cried.

“Uhm, okay, okay, uh...” Peter looked around for anything that would help remedy the situation. “Here, here, Winnie? Do you want your bottle? You’ll probably feel better when you drink it, yeah?” He picked up the item off the floor, carefully wiping off the tip in case any dirt got on it.

Winnie looked over his shoulder towards him, eyes puffy and distraught. At least he wasn’t fake crying.

Peter carefully stepped closer, handing him the bottle. “There you go, that’s better, right?” He hummed as the child finally started drinking instead of throwing the bottle at his head again.

It was a good five minutes of silence.

Peter sat down on his designated chair, watching the body across from him lounging on the cushionless couch.

Peter hoped against hope that the rest of the day would be easier.

It was not.

It was 2:30 on the dot when Ms. Potts entered the room.

“Hey, Peter, hows- _oh!_ ”

Peter was crying, stuck in a corner and covered in web fluid that left him completely immobile. Winnie was no better, his chest and metal hand pinned to the wall by the same substance, and wearing a plastic bowl on his head. The cushions and pillows were still stuck to the ceiling, along with four books, two lamps, and a sandwich. On top of that, there were Cheerios scattered all over the floor, which would probably explain the bowl.

“Oh my- Peter it looks like a hurricane tore through here. What happened?” Ms. Potts asked, working on clearing the webbing from Winnie’s chest. Winnie just huffed and pouted.

“I’m sorry, I had it under control, I just-“ Peter sniffled. “Winnie got mad ‘cause I said I’d call Mr. Wilson to tell him that he was throwing things at me, an-and he threw his cereal at me and kept running at me and I-I got stuck here and I was scared and I webbed him and-and-“

“Peter, Peter it’s okay.” Ms. Potts sighed. “Winnie’s very impulsive when he’s upset. We shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“I’m sorry, you’re busy, I-I can-“

“Peter, I have an extra thirty minutes before my next appointment,” Ms. Potts assured him. “I can at least help you get him settled, okay?”

“But you should be relaxing, not cleaning up my mess.” Peter sighed as Ms. Potts carefully helped him out of the webbing.

“Trust me, I couldn’t relax right now if I wanted to.” Ms. Potts smiled. “I’ll have plenty of time to relax when Tony gets home and my meetings are over, okay?”

“I guess...” Peter mumbled, shaking off the rest of the web fluid before rubbing his red, puffy spinneret openings. He knew they’d be sore in the morning, and that he’d be out of web fluid until at least tomorrow afternoon, which left him pretty shit out of luck if something were to happen.

“Good. Now, Winnie.” Ms. Potts turned around, facing the body on the other side of the room. Winnie’s complete, undivided attention was on her. “I know you miss you Daddy and Papa, but is that any excuse to treat your new friend like this?”

Winnie tucked his head.

“Winnie? Was it nice to throw things at him, just because you’re upset?” Ms. Potts insisted.

Winnie shook his head, not looking up.

“No, it’s not nice at all. Peter has to be away from his family too, how do you think you’d feel if he threw things at you because he’s upset?” Ms. Potts added on.

“Sad.” Winnie whimpered. “Scared.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t feel too good if he treated you like that, huh?” Ms. Potts agreed.

Peter was at a complete loss, watching his boss’s girlfriend talk to the Winter Soldier like she was scolding a one year old. Okay, technically she _was_ scolding a one year old, but the image of James Buchanan Barnes, famous war hero turned brainwashed assassin, huddling in on himself like an infant was just bizarre. He watched as Ms. Potts opened her arms, and Winnie crawled up to her, nuzzling into her chest as she wrapped her arms around him. It was kinda cute, if not a little strange.

After a moment of whispered words, Ms. Potts motioned for him to come over. Peter obeyed, padding over and sitting beside the two.

“Winnie, what did you want to say to Peter?” Ms. Potts asked, rubbing the body’s back in smooth, even circles.

“Sorry...” Winnie mumbled, not looking up towards him. “Mean...”

“It’s okay, Winnie,” Peter sighed. “Just please don’t do it again, okay? I know you miss your Papa.”

“And Papa’s gonna come back, neither of them are leaving forever. They’re gonna be home in just a couple days, I promise.” Ms. Potts added. Okay, that made a lot more sense. Winnie was upset and scared because he thought they were leaving forever. He must’ve thought Peter was supposed to be their replacement.

Peter gasped when Winnie pulled him into a hug.

“There we go, see? It’s a lot more fun when you’re nice to your friends, isn’t it?” Ms. Potts smiled. Winnie pulled away, giving a watery smile in return. “Now, how about you help Peter and I clean up, then you can settle down for a nap on the couch, okay?”

Winnie was up before either of them, already crouching down to pick up the scattered cereal.

It took all of ten minutes to get the living room back in order (mostly because they had to pick up the cereal by hand, as Winnie had issues with the vacuum). Ms. Potts pat Peter’s shoulder as Winnie nestled into the now re-cushioned couch.

“There we go. Now why don’t you two find a movie to watch, okay? I’ve got to head out.” Ms. Potts explained, walking back towards the door of the apartment. You two take care, alright?” With that, Ms. Potts made her leave, leaving the two on the couch.

“Alright, so, anything you want to watch?” Peter asked, picking up the remote for the TV.

“Oobi.” Winnie mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Hey, I remember that show.” Peter smiled, flicking the TV to Youtube before finding a random episode.

Winnie was asleep before the ten minute episode was over, but Peter didn’t want to turn it off just yet. It felt kinda nice, watching a show he vaguely remembered from his childhood. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he felt kinda warm and fuzzy, like the days he’d spend sitting on the floor in front of the TV while Aunt May was cooking dinner. Though, he could’ve lived without the colorful butterfly barrettes in his hair or the pink dresses that he was more often than not put in. Maybe it would’ve been nice, having a childhood as a boy, not being treated like he had to love the color pink and hate things like frogs and spiders.

Peter found he could barely keep his eyes open. Perhaps a nap was in order for him as well.


	9. Out Came The Sun (And The Little Spider, Too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the little ones must have fallen asleep and switched out during their nap. It happened once in a while, no big deal.
> 
> What _was_ a big deal, however, was the sleeping body currently nestled into his side like he was the world’s deadliest pillow while suckling on his thumb.
> 
> The Spider Kid fell asleep on him.

The Soldier woke up to the familiar sound of the Oobi theme song. One of the little ones must have fallen asleep and switched out during their nap. It happened once in a while, no big deal.

What _was_ a big deal, however, was the sleeping body currently nestled into his side like he was the world’s deadliest pillow while suckling on his thumb.

The Spider Kid fell asleep on him.

Wait, why did the kid leave the television on? Why did he fall asleep trying to cuddle him? Why was his thumb in his mouth?

Oh. _Oh_.

The Soldier remembered the conversation he accidentally overheard the previous night, how insecure the kid sounded about wanting comfort. He caught a glimpse of his free hand, noting the red, raw hole on his wrist.

Right. Winnie.

“That behavior was uncalled for.” The Soldier mumbled, earning a whimpering sigh from the bear. He wanted to retrieve the bear from the other room, but couldn’t move without waking up the body on his side. He took another look at the kid’s wrists, the openings looking swollen and painful. Those must be where he shoots webs from. Better than the alternative, he supposed.

The poor kid must be in pain.

The Soldier looked away when the kid’s eyes fluttered open.

“Mmh...” He whimpered out, nuzzling deeper into his side. The Soldier wasn’t sure what to do, completely unprepared for this kind of situation. Sure, he had taken care of Winnie plenty of times, but taking care of one of his alters was a lot easier than trying to take care of another physical person.

He felt the body beside him tense up.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m-I’m sorry-“ Peter whimpered as he sat up, clearly out of it. He sighed, taking pity on the poor kid. Besides, it wasn’t his first time interacting with people who age regress. He had spoken to Jamesy’s friends when they felt small.

“Shh, vcee khorosho, everything’s fine.” The Soldier hushed the kid before he could work himself up into a panic. “Are you hungry, Peter?”

The kid stared up at him, confusion and fear etched across his face.

“Kinda...” Peter mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Alright, do you want a sandwich? Or can you handle solids at all?” The Soldier asked, carefully patting the kid’s shoulder.

“Uh...” Peter mumbled. “Banana and honey, please?”

“Alright.” The Soldier nodded, carefully moving from his spot on the couch. “Do you want to stay on the couch?”

“Please...” The kid mumbled.

The Soldier nodded, gathering the necessary items from the kitchen. A banana and honey sandwich was easy enough, though it sounded pretty disgusting to him. Once he finished the construction of the kid’s sandwich, he brought the plate back out to him. “Eat slow. Do you want a drink?”

“Uh...Milk please?” Peter asked. The Soldier nodded, returning to the kitchen and easily pouring him a glass, setting it on the coffee table for him before sitting down next to him.

The silence was awkward and tense, as the kid slowly ate his food and the Soldier mentally raced through his options. What did this kid like? Would he be scared and sad like Jamesy? Was this a trauma reaction? He didn’t think he could handle this kid crying. He watched as Peter hissed in pain, set his sandwich down, and rubbed at his wrists.

“Do they hurt?” The Soldier asked, remembering the raw skin.

“Little...” Peter mumbled. “I-it’s okay, I-“

“Here.” The Soldier stood up and made his way to the bathroom, locating a small tube of anti-inflammatory ointment before making his way back to the couch. “Let me see.” He said as gently as he could manage, holding out his metal hand. Peter stared at him for a moment before turning up both of his hands, revealing the small, swollen holes in his wrists. “Keep them up, okay?” He instructed before twisting open the tube.

“I-I’m sorry...” Peter mumbled, his face bright red.

“No need.” The Soldier said simply as he squeezed a small amount of the substance onto the kid’s skin. He used his flesh hand to gently rub the fluid into his skin, watching the kid’s face for any signs of discomfort. Once he was finished, he made his way back to the bathroom, washing his hands and retrieving the little ones’ cartoon themed bandages from the cabinet before returning to the couch once more. “Which ones would you like?”

Peter stared at the options, taking each one into careful consideration. “Is that Charmander?”

The Soldier glanced at the wrapped bandage, noting the red-orange cartoon lizard with a fire on its tail. “Da, do you want that one?”

“Please, and uh, Meowth please.” The kid mumbled, not looking up towards him. The Soldier nodded, ripping open the wrapping of the bandages before carefully smoothing them over the kid’s skin.

“Good boy.” The Soldier mumbled, doing his best to think of things he had heard Jamesy’s friends say to one another, what their caretakers said to them. He figured those would be more similar to what Peter was feeling than how his little ones were with the Captain and the Falcon.

Peter went stiff. The Soldier took note of that.

“I’m going to get changed. Do you want to get changed too?” The Soldier asked, watching as the kid froze.

“I-I don’t- I mean- I-“

“If you want. I won’t force you-“

“Please.” Peter mumbled.

“Alright, do you want me to help you?” The Soldier asked.

“Y-you don’t have to.” Peter added.

“That wasn’t the question. Do you want me to help you get changed?” The Soldier pressed on.

“...Please...” Peter mumbled.

“Alright, here, malen’kiy mal’chik.” The Soldier nodded, easily lifting the kid off of the couch. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this kid could lift him easily when he felt like he weighed less than a sack of potatoes. He shrugged off the thought as he made his way to the guest room, setting Peter on the bed. “I’m going to get changed, then I’ll bring you in, understood?”

“Mhm...” Peter mumbled, still laying on the bed.

“Khorosho.” The Soldier nodded, making his way back to the bathroom once again.

It was easy enough, changing out of Winnie’s padding and slipping into his much more appropriate MAGs. Once he got changed into some darker sweatpants, he made his way back to the room, lifting Peter off of the bed and carrying him back to the bathroom. 

“You’re small, these might be big on you.” The Soldier mumbled, looking through the diaper options in the cabinet. “These are Jamesy’s, they run a bit smaller. Are these okay?” He held up one of the folded diapers, a cartoon pterodactyl on the front.

“‘S fine.” Peter mumbled, his face bright red. “I-I can do it m’self.”

“If you want. Either way.” The Soldier shrugged. “You changed me, it’s not that different.”

“It is.” Peter mumbled.

“How so? You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” The Soldier pointed out.

“I do...” Peter whimpered.

The Soldier stared at him in confusion.

“I...” Peter gulped hard, his cheeks somehow turning a darker crimson. “I don’t, I’m not-“

The Soldier didn’t rush him.

“I-I don’t have what you have,” Peter finally managed out. “D-down there. Was born different.”

Oh.

_Oh._

That would explain a few things.

“That’s okay, Peter.” The Soldier reassured him. “If you don’t want me to help, I wont force you. But again, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Peter stared into his own lap, not looking up at him.

“Help, please.” Peter whimpered out.

“Alright, here.” The Soldier helped him to lay down on the floor, keeping an eye on him for any signs of fear or discomfort. “I’m going to take your pants off, alright?” He stated, earning a nod from the kid. Once he got the permission he needed, he carefully pulled Peter’s pants up and off of his legs, taking note to not stare directly at his now uncovered lower half. None of them liked it when people stared at their privates (well, besides him, but only if it was the Captain and the Falcon), so he wouldn’t do it to someone else.

“Alright, good boy,” The Soldier mumbled, carefully unfolding and fluffing up the padding before situating it between Peters legs. Sure, it was a little off putting not seeing a dick there, but it wasn’t nearly the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, so it didn’t matter. Once he got the padding situated, he carefully taped up the sides. “How does that feel, loose? Tight?”

Peter slowly sat up, squirming and adjusting. “Feels good.” He mumbled.

“Khorosho, malen’kiy mal’chik.” The Soldier hummed as gently as possible before helping the kid back into his pants and scooping him up, carrying him back to the couch.

There was a problem when he tried to set Peter back down.

“What’s wrong, malen’kiy pauk?” He asked, the kid only clinging tighter.

“Don’ let go, please.” Peter whimpered.

“It’s okay, little one.” The Soldier sighed, laying back against the couch as he sat down, holding the boy close to his chest. “You’re safe here, little spider.”

“‘M a good boy...” Peter sniffled.

“Khoroshiy mal’chik. You’re a good boy.” The Soldier nodded, letting the kid nuzzle against his shoulder.

The evening was quiet as the two held one another.

The Soldier jumped when he was awoken by the sound of his phone buzzing, quickly answering as to avoid waking the sleeping body on his chest. “Privet?”

“Soldier? You there?” The Falcon’s voice, tinged over satellite, rang through. The Soldier nearly melted at the familiar sound.

“Da, here.” He whispered.

“How are you? Pepper said there was an issue earlier?”

“Resolved. We are good.” The Soldier corrected, carefully stroking the sleeping boy’s back.

“That’s good.” The Falcon mumbled. “How’s Peter? You haven’t driven him crazy yet, right?”

The Soldier watched Peter’s sleeping form, gently snoozing on his chest like he hadn’t murdered countless innocents. “He’s good. Sleeping.”

“Alright, good.” There were voices on the other end. “We’ve got to go, big guy, heading to the next checkpoint now. We love all of you so much, Soldier. Steve and I love you dearly. We’ll be back soon.”

“I love you. We love you. Stay safe.” The Soldier said, listening as the dial tone rang. He set the phone back down, wrapping both arms around the boy’s back.

The evening was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations;**
> 
> Vcee khorosho: Everything is fine/okay
> 
> Malen’kiy mal’chik: Little boy
> 
> Malen’kiy pauk: Little spider
> 
> Khoroshy mal’chik: Good boy
> 
> If any of these are incorrect, feel free to correct me.


	10. I’m Running Out Of Spider Puns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does it hurt?” Jamesy carefully looked over the man’s hands, a little unnerved at the sight of holes in someones skin. It reminded him of when the doctors would take the drip out of their hand and a little bit of blood would spill out of the hole. More blood lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Time To Wrap This Up

“Why do y’u ha’f those holes?” Jamesy asked, staring at Peter’s wrist.

It was the day before Daddy and Papa would, hopefully, return from their mission. Jamesy was having an alright time with Peter, but he really, _really_ missed his parents, and wanted them home already.

He and Peter had been sitting on the floor of his room, playing with legos, because Peter had mentioned that he liked playing with legos.

“Hm? Oh, they’re my spinnerets.” Peter held up his wrists, showing the two small holes at the very base of his palms, just where the blue veins would normally be. “It’s, uh, where my webs come from.”

“Does it hurt?” Jamesy carefully looked over the man’s hands, a little unnerved at the sight of holes in someones skin. It reminded him of when the doctors would take the drip out of their hand and a little bit of blood would spill out of the hole. More blood lost.

“Only if I use them too much, they can only make so much silk in a day, and they get a little sore and raw from spitting out web fluid too much.” Peter explained. “Here, watch this.” He smiled.

Jamesy watched as Peter pressed his middle and ring finger down against the ball of his hand, and immediately after a glob of white silk was ejected out, shooting against the wall where it exploded into a large spider web.

“Woah...” Jamesy gasped in awe. Their body couldn’t do anything like that— well, it could when the Soldier was out, but that was different and he wasn’t allowed to talk about that. “Can y’u do more?”

“Sure!” Peter grinned. “Here, check this out.”

Jamesy watched as he repeated his hand motion, but this time tilting his hand further back towards his arm. This time, a long strand of silk shot straight forward, creating a smaller web that was still attached to his wrist. He then jerked his hand up to grab the string, detaching it from his wrist. “Ta-daa!”

Jamesy was in awe, looking over the string that was now cutting straight through the middle of his room. He was about to reach out and touch it, before pulling his hand back, apprehensive. “‘S it sticky? Or gross?”

“It’s only sticky on the end, the rest just kinda feels like a really long lock of hair, kinda like Rapunzel. You know her, right?” Peter held the string out for him to grab.

Jamesy had heard of Rapunzel from his book of fairy tales that Bruce had given him, but Daddy and Papa said he wasn’t allowed to watch the movie about her. “Uh-huh.” He mumbled with a nod before carefully grabbing the thread. It felt nice, like very soft fibers. It was a little weird, but that was a lot nicer and cooler than any other weird, white fluid he had to deal with coming out of people. An image of his old Daddy flashed behind his eyes. He let go of the string.

“And if you think _that’s_ cool, then watch this!” Peter grinned before standing up, unknowingly pulling Jamesy from his thoughts. He then jumped into the air, high enough for his finger tips to touch the ceiling, and swung his legs up to meet the ceiling as well. Jamesy was waiting for him to fall straight on his back, but it never came. Instead, the man pulled his hands away from the ceiling, now standing completely upside down, before shooting a web directly at the bin of legos they had dragged out from the closet. Jamesy watched in awe as Peter pulled the bin towards him, lifting it up into the air like it was nothing. That bin had to be at _least_ one hundred pounds with how many legos and miscellaneous lost items it had. “Ta-daa!”

Jamesy couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face, nor the way his hands clapped together in excitement, nor the way his body wiggled and squirmed with the sudden amount of energy he had. Peter smiled back, all teeth and joy.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Peter set the bin down before taking a bow, his upper body leaning towards the ceiling like gravity wasn’t pulling on him. Once he pulled his upper body back to a standing position, he jumped off the ceiling, flipping in the air like a cat to land on his feet.

“Do it again!” Jamesy cheered. “Oh oh can y’u lift me up there?” He had never felt so excited around another person who wasn’t his Daddy or Papa in his entire life

“Of course I can! Here, watch!” Peter grinned.

——

“Peter? Bucky? We’re home.” Sam had called into the apartment as he and Steve stepped through the door. It was a long week, and he was thoroughly exhausted before they even reached their final checkpoint. The whole team had caught a lucky break when they learned their final target had already been taking out, letting them go home earlier than expected.

He was ready for a warm bath and a night in his own damn bed.

That was, until he and Steve noticed the strands of white fibers strewn across nearly every possible surface of the living room. It looked like a spider war zone in their damn apartment.

“What the...” Sam mumbled, shooting a glance at Steve, who shot him a concerned glance of his own.

“Soldier.” They both came to the same, horrifying conclusion.

Sam was off like a bullet, praying they could find the kid’s body in time. Dear lord, he knew it was risky leaving them alone with someone new, but he didn’t expect them to try and kill the poor kid. He must have put up a hell of a struggle with all of the webbing shot across the room.

“Sam! _Sam!_ ” Steve’s voice called, a hushed whisper. Sam turned his head, seeing Steve standing in the doorway of Barnes’ room. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he slowly padded towards the room, arms up and ready to subdue the Soldier at a moment’s notice. If he was crouched over the poor kid’s body like a prized kill, he didn’t think he’d be able to stomach that.

Instead, what he found past the doorway made his heart melt in his chest.

Barnes’ room was worse for wear in the case of webbing, with fibers strewn across every corner and strands hanging from the ceiling. What grabbed their attention was the large web-hammock in he dead center of the room, where a sleeping Jamesy was cradled against a sleeping Peter’s side in the middle of the webbing.

“Oh my god...” Sam whispered, the sight far too precious. He carefully pulled his phone from his utility pouch, snapping a silent photo of the two.

Peter was the first to stir, his eyes blinking open before glancing at the two.

“Oh, hey, you’re back early.” He smiled, clearly still waking up.

“Yep, we’re-“

“OH MY GOD I’M _SO SORRY_ I MADE A MESS OF YOUR PLACE!” Peter suddenly jolted up, startling Jamesy in the process, the two’s movements causing the hammock to flip over, depositing the two onto the floor. “I’LL CLEAN IT UP RIGHT AWAY—“

“Shhh hey hey! Kid! It’s okay! Peter it’s alright!” Sam held his hands up to try and calm the kid. “Chill out, no one’s mad at you!”

“We thought you were hurt, that something bad happened.” Steve added on.

Jamesy whimpered as he sat up, rubbing his head. “Oww...” He huffed, looking up.

Realization in three, two, one.

“PAPA! _DADDY!_ ” Jamesy shrieked, off the floor and in their arms in record time. Sam laughed as his boy nuzzled into his neck.

“There’s my Jamesy.” Sam hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “How’ve you been? Did you miss us?”

“Lots, buh Peter an’ I had’d lossa fun!” Jamesy grinned, a smile bright enough to light up New York. “Me an’ Peter were buldin’ legos an’ then he showed me how his spider powers work then he let me swing from his webs then we played tag an’ stuff an’-an’ then we got tired an’ Peter made a hammock see?” Jamesy explained at a mile a minute. Sam and Steve smiled at each other, happy to see their little boy so unabashedly excited. His energy made the both of them just a little less tired.

“Sounds like you had a great time.” Steve hummed, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“Mhmn, did!” Jamesy smiled.

“Well, Peter’s gonna have to go home soon, and it’s just about your bedtime,” Sam began. “Why don’t you help Peter get all of the webs cleaned up?”

Jamesy was already off the floor, running with Peter to tear down the strands. Sam and Steve shared a laugh before Steve stood up, helping Sam off of the floor and to the bathroom. He could live with just a hot shower for now.

By the time Sam stepped out of the steam, warm and boneless and half relying on Steve to hold him up, Peter and Jamesy had cleaned up every last inch of webbing, which was now stuffed in the trashcan.

“That’ll all dissolve in a couple hours.” Peter explained. “It wont be nearly as full then.”

“Thank you, Peter, for everything.” Steve smiled, shaking the kid’s hand.

“Yeah, you’ve been a lifesaver.” Sam added, shaking his hand as well.

Jamesy looked apprehensive.

“I’ll see you later, okay Ja-“

Peter squeaked as Jamesy tackled him into a hug, obviously squeezing this poor kid’s ribs.

“Bye Peter...” He whimpered.

“Awe, bye Jamesy. I’ll be sure to visit, okay?” Peter hummed, patting his back.

Jamesy nodded hard before pulling away, standing next to his guardians as Peter walked out through the front door and into the elevator.

“Alright, I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for a night in my own bed.” Sam yawned, stretching his arms high above his head.

“Aren’ y’u gonna sleep with me?” Jamesy whimpered, already back to his clingy self.

“You know I’d love to, bug,” Sam began, trying to stifle another yawn. “But I need a night to stretch out my back. I’ll sleep in your bed with you and Daddy tomorrow night, okay?”

Jamesy looked a little disappointed, but nodded. After a tight hug and a kiss goodnight, Sam made his way to his bedroom.

“Here, lets get you ready for bed, lamb.” He heard Steve hum, leading the boy to the bathroom.

With that, Sam shucked his gear off of his body, slipped into some loose pajama pants, and flopped ungracefully onto his bed, promptly passing out.

He didn’t even realize it was morning when he heard a knock at his door.

“Hrm?” Sam groaned, not opening his eyes. “Come in.”

He listened as the door opened and familiar footsteps padded towards him.

“Papa, _papa_ ,” Jamesy whispered. “Papa ‘s mornin’ time.”

“Yep, it’s morning time.” He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Any reason for the wake up call?”

“I missed y’u.” He whimpered.

“I missed you too, bud.” Sam yawned, not quite ready to wake up yet. “Here, why don’t you lay with me for a bit?”

He sighed in content as he felt the bed shift, followed by a head resting on his chest. He moved his arm to wrap around the boy’s shoulder.

“Welcome home, Papa.” Jamesy mumbled, nuzzling into his chest.

It was good to be back.

**Author's Note:**

> Any behaviors related to DID or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency within this story are based on personal experiences and are not a scientific basis or professional explanation for either DID systems or Autism Spectrum Neurodivergency. No two people, let alone no two systems, are exactly the same.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


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